


House of The Rising Sun

by jaeman (longassride)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Grim reaper au, Human!Jeno, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reaper!Jaemin, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longassride/pseuds/jaeman
Summary: Jaemin can let a leaf flutter away from him and call it his





	House of The Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> wow, im actually back with a oneshot JUST RIGHT BEFORE UNI STARTS. AND ANGST WHAT THE FUCKETY FUG.
> 
> and yes the title is inspired from alt-j's song it's been a worm in my ear. no particular etymology and philosophy about it whatsoever. just played the song, got the feel, jotted em down. the summary is also *sighs* inspired by iron&wine's call it dreaming LMAO IM NOT SO CREATIVE. but anyway, please enjoy.

The clock strikes twelve when Jeno hears password being punched and he shoots up from his lying position on the couch, strutting towards the hallway. He freezes at the end of the level, an oversized kitten-printed pajama hanging loosely on his tensed shoulders and each edge of his overlong pants gets trampled under his cold feet. It no longer scares the living shit out of him, that the ceiling lamp’s heat detector barely functions even when the figure enters with loud, humanly footsteps.

 

“Hey, baby,” the deep voice is raspy and phlegmatic on a daily basis, but now is even colder. Jaemin flashes a small smile while toeing his shoes off, not less burned-out as how he sounds. Jeno just shudders from his spot when he feels cold fog emit from Jaemin’s skin, hardly visible but stinging on his warmer dermis. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” the boy in all-black outfits asks, still narrowly manages his tone into a more civilized range but never cuts Jeno to the quick.

 

Jeno trades his words for action as he reaches out to hold Jaemin’s hand, cold fog be damned once his bodily warmth overspreads the boy’s skin. Jaemin doesn’t flinch, neither does he retract his hand from Jeno’s gentle squeeze. He knows the raven is no longer a stranger to his cold body but the puissance of his clutch indicates that Jeno senses something from him. Something that’s not his element.

 

Jaemin caresses Jeno’s head with his unoccupied hand before falling down to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing his earlobe. And Jeno can’t help shivering from the overwhelming cold despite the geniality underneath it. He gives in to the icy palm and flutters his eyes close. “I need a warm shower,” says him. “I’m soaking.”

 

Jeno opens his eyes to a vacant darkness again, frigid fingers are leaving numbness on his cheek, before turning around to the sound of dripping waters and the black coat recklessly folded on the splat of their armchair. There were some wet spots and big drops of rainfall on the black fabric when Jeno takes a closer look, and carefully he brushes them with his palm, wondering what Jaemin had gone through inside this fabric.

 

He takes the coat with him to their shared bedroom, folding it neatly en route before settling himself on the bed. The rain outside is clear and loud, hitting against the glass but the thunder’s roar is mumbled by the dark clouds. Jeno’s eyes shift from the raindrop stained window in front of him to Jaemin’s black coat on his lap.

 

Three years and six months since Jaemin and Jeno’s official day-1. Before everybody knows, Jeno is already a grim reaper’s _human_ boyfriend. It’s yet in his and other people’s bones, even until now, that he nodded at Jaemin’s supposedly pick up lines (the grim reaper is surprisingly invested in their course) when he already knew that he was The Chosen, human whose fates are tied with divine entities since they were born.

 

A year had preceded their odd love affair, an introduction to the latter chapters of more, thankfully, delightful days. It’s filled with Jaemin’s moronic stunts and stupid grim reaper smile (a little stoic but he tries), and Jeno’s hearty laugh. Their hesitation and confusion slip here and there but they don’t forestall merrier chapters onward.

 

It’s both a blessing and a nuisance for Jeno. Jaemin becomes his guardian all the time, his knight in shining armor of modern days. He kicked a senior’s bike that cycled pass them when Jeno told him dejectedly that he was the loser who stole his presentation idea. The raven jolted from his seat the next day when the guy’s gang sitting behind him talked about their leader, mentioning the injuries and the period of his recovery. Jeno leaped onto Jaemin’s sleeping figure later in the afternoon, peppering him with kisses all over his pale frowning face and repeating them a thousand times on his inhumanly red pouty lips. Although wrong, outrageous, and unearthly, the grim reaper had made his senior paralyzed for three weeks following that accident, automatically preventing him from attending the presentation day and the professor would surely make him do a written test instead. Jaemin has helped him his way, with the silliest deed someone conscious would laugh at but equals the danger of an air crash.

 

In the other side, being Jaemin’s boyfriend means expecting an accident on their way to almost everywhere and witnessing everything a newshound would – _should_ \- die to know and see. Jaemin’s choice of longer route and abrupt halt always cue him that someone’s fate is going to be sealed around their perimeter. He would just stand there next to his boyfriend, heart violating his ribcage and trying his best not to reach out to the grim reaper and ask him to stay when it occurs.

 

All cataclysms that happen never fail to surprise Jeno, surging him in utter horror and collective grieve. But what still surprises him the most is the fact that Jaemin is not there primarily to pick the wrongdoer’s soul. Because Jaemin walks around them to approach a perfectly fit human (or soul) on the other side of the street, hands clasping before their mouth for they see themselves on a pool of blood and catastrophe.

 

He remembered losing all of his strength in his feet the first time he experienced it, eyes brimming with tears and palm covering his quivering lips before pedestrians even swarmed the scene with shocked eyes and massive turmoil. He realized later that an army of black coated people, including Jaemin, had waited there on the roadside before approaching the devastated bus. Each of them had one person in their hand; none of the victims seemed clear-headed but complied with their respective grim reaper anyway. They looked perfectly fine and flawless like a new human waiting for a new world, like the first cry of a newborn baby.

 

Jeno spotted Jaemin not too far from the wreckage, supporting an elderly man whose wooden walking stick was shattered next to him. The old man had a smile, just like his grim reaper, and uttered a few more words that Jeno could never catch but grew a wider smile on Jaemin’s face. Jaemin never spared a glance to him even though he was sure he wasn’t in the reaper’s blind spot until he vanished too with the old man under his support after several steps to the north.

 

The black coat on his lap emits soft carnation scent so out of blue despite the cold cotton, loosening up some of Jeno’s knotted string of thoughts and memoir. It’s also Jaemin’s natural odor; the one that announces his arrival to the other boy even when they are five walls apart. The carnation only evidences to him, not to other people except those whom Jaemin is there for.

 

“What had you gone through today with Jaemin?” Jeno mumbles while caressing the coat, his lower lip protrudes at every possible answer.

 

Then the carnation scent intensifies, still mild but enough to sign that the original owner has come into the room. Jeno turns around to see Jaemin walk toward him already in his black shirt and grey training -and also barefooted. He sits carefully next to Jeno, his skin meets the other boy’s skin and space melts between the cold smoke and warm glow.

 

“He had gone through no pool of blood today,” the reaper begins, much to Jeno’s surprise. He doesn’t expect Jaemin to hear his small voice and to elaborate his day before he asks. He doesn’t reply, hoping that the other boy gets the cue to continue.

 

But Jaemin doesn’t. He just stares at the coat on Jeno’s lap, lost in the milieu only the grim reaper remembers. And for all that the raven sees, Jaemin is not being him at all. Is it possible that he _feels_ something while he is on duty? Jeno knows Jaemin is supposed to have less emotion rather than any human and he has no slightest reminiscence of his old human life and a piece of it can throw him into an empty feeling or agonizing sensation of lost.

 

Jeno cradles Jaemin’s face with his two hands, dragging it carefully to face him. His touch is feathery as if he is holding a fragile glass statue. It’s true, though. Jaemin looks frailer tonight and his skinny limbs are doing an excellent job to emphasize his figure even more.

 

The reaper casts his eyes on Jeno and there is this electrifying sense creeping all over his body immediately. Jeno is aware that he is not in the right moment to blush but he can’t help himself. He never maintains a quite self-composure that he wishes everytime Jaemin stares at him with those black orbs. It is as if the boy tries to carve his figure in Jeno’s soul rather than just looking at him. He feels heat rises to his cheeks, coloring it with a soft hue of red that looks bright under the moonlight.

 

“He looks like you,” says Jaemin. “A lot.”

 

“Who?” Jeno replies softer than he has intended to be.

 

“The boy.”

 

The boy. The vagueness that clears Jeno’s confusion and the uncomfortable lump in his throat he can’t quite cure by himself.

 

“He has the same haircut like you and the same soft texture when I ran my fingers through it. He has the same straight nose and that unique cupid bow like you do. He has a round, jutted chin like you.”

 

“He had your cat-like smile when I told him that I’d take him to a happy place. And he was asking me what kind of happiness is in that place. Twelve years later,” he pauses. “Twelve years later he would grow as handsome and smart as you.”

 

_If I didn’t have to take him today._

 

No full stop ever sounds so finite and heart-wrenching with Jaemin. Jaemin doesn’t judge someone’s fag end. Yet, Jeno feels like his boyfriend is in the middle of tearing himself for an incapability he shouldn’t regret and for an eternity he can’t present. He doesn’t know what had happened to the boy, he wasn’t there with Jaemin like other days. He will never be sure if Jaemin is shattered due to the boy’s state or the boy’s background story. But the fact that his boyfriend, a grim reaper on duty feels grief running through his blood, warms him and pricks him at the same time.

 

“I was reminded of you,” Jaemin’s grip on Jeno’s waist tightens. The latter doesn’t even realize that he has been holding onto him.

 

“ _I don’t want to lose you, yet_.”

 

Jeno doesn’t care if Jaemin isn’t supposed to say that sentence or if he loses his tough facade suddenly. As a grim reaper, Jaemin knows he can’t proclaim that. He should be compliant to the higher-up and live the rest of his reaper life letting go of everything. Sooner or later, he will have to let go of Jeno’s hands too. He isn’t supposed to say that because he isn’t the one to decide.

 

But Jeno’s hands on his face are refined yet gentle as usual. And the way he caresses his cheekbones reassures him that he is not going to lose him yet when he is uncertain either. Jaemin can’t think of his fright anymore when Jeno rests his forehead against his, hoping it can share his burden with him. Soon, the boy is saying “I will not leave you, Jaemin” softly like a mantra against his lips and after his fifth repetition, Jeno seals it with a soft kiss, warm and humanely between his upper lip.

 

Jeno feels Jaemin slowly relaxes, getting the grip of himself as Jeno’s warmth overspreads his cold heart to every tip of his fingers by his dry canals of blood. He lets the grim reaper slip his worry through his mouth and through the calloused palm that tilts his jaw higher and through the chilling fog that disperses slowly as Jaemin deepens their kiss.

  
  


_In this house, spaces melt between cold smoke and warm glow._

**Author's Note:**

> meet me @murkcurry on tumblr for more nct yelling or jaeno yelling or whatever ship yelling or relatable international fans meme or relatable college students meme


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